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Emilia had just walked into her New York living space when she got the call. It had been a very long and tiring day; a day she honestly couldn't wait to be done with. Stepping into her hotel room had never felt so good; it had never felt like this much of a haven in all her time here. She slid the keycard into the door, throwing her coat onto the table on the inside before releasing a drawn out yawn. Her mind was already going into sleep mode as she removed each item of clothing, slowly making her way into her bedroom. What an unbelievable crappy day, she thought to herself as she revisited the events that took place. Not only had it been an extremely long one but everything that needed to happen to prepare her for the Golden Globes had ran late and had her in uncomfortable and irritating situations. She only had two days before the event and she was starting to feel the pressure building from all that was left to be done.
She let out a heavy breath as she remembered the early flight that she needed to catch the following day; the one straight into Los Angeles and then she'd have to cab it home. Her eyes rolled involuntarily at the grueling thought of having to be up before the crack of dawn. She had to make sure that everything went on without a hitch though. It would be a damn shame if she missed that flight and arrive late to her rehearsals on the first day.
She pulled her phone from the denim pants that had been slung carelessly over the length of her bed; immediately tapping on the clock app to set her alarm for five in the morning. At least she'd be in the comfort of her own Los Angeles home when she got there. No hotel rooms or hotel food. No more running into people that she'd been trying to avoid. No more ducking and dodging the hungry paparazzi. Just complete solitude and serenity. She'd roam the gardens and lounge around in her massive tub to her hearts content without wondering who's been in there before her. She'd slip under her warm comforter and smell her own scent on the pillows. Ahh yes. She could not wait.
She sighed contently; her mind visiting each space of her two bedroom home; her fingers practically feeling the spines of the books in her roof high bookshelf; her ears already filled with the swooshing and lapping of her pool water in the California breeze.
She was unpleasantly snapped from her daydream when her phone rang out into the empty room; only just now realizing she'd been standing idly with her phone in her hand, staring out into the open space of her room.
"Hello?" she answered carefully, not quite recognizing the number on the screen.
"Is this Emilia?"
"Yes it is, who is this?" she replied a little more defensively than she intended.
"This is Scott, one of Kit's mate. Are you still in New York?"
"I'm not sure if I want to answer that just yet. What's going on? Is something wrong?"
"Well, I'm standing her on the street with your friend after getting thrown out of Brafly in Gramercy. He's piss faced
drunk and he said we should call you. Is that enough of a reason for you to tell me if you're in New York or not?"
"Hi Emilia," she heard the slurred tone of her friend shouting in the background.
"Oh my god. Yes, I am. Is he okay? What happened?"
"He's fine for right now but I think you should come get him before he tries to storm into that pub again. He's a bit hard
to control when he's like this."
"I'm on my way. Keep an eye on him for me until I get there."
"Aye, will do!"
"Bye Emilia," she heard Kit's voice say again.
Without another thought, the brunette woman ran into her closet to throw on the first pair of jeans and boots she could find; pulling a t-shirt over her head and grabbing the coat from the table as she swiftly departed the hotel room once more.
It only took her 30 minutes before she was pulling along the roadside at the Barfly bar. She noticed a small gathering of
persons and knew instantly that it had to be Kit and his friends. She slammed the door, doing a half jog to get to where they were; the heels of her boots making a clacking sound against the hard, cold concrete pavement.
She hugged the coat against her body tighter while the harsh chilled wind whipped the blonde strands across her face; noticing then how the group turned to face her as she approached them. Their rotating bodies gave way to the sight of her best friend sitting on the curb of the sidewalk. She made her way through the small crowd to stand next to him; his face immediately lighting up at the sight of the woman he requested.
"Emilia!" he shouted excitedly. "Look guys, Emilia is here!" he raved as he struggled to get to his feet.
A man from the group came up behind him; setting his hands on his shoulders to keep him seated. "Hey, relax. Don't try to move just yet," he spoke in a thick, soothing British accent, one she recognized as the voice that spoke to her earlier.
Emilia's gaze left Kit's and flickered over to Scott.
"Glad to see you made it," he said as he turned to face her.
"What happened?" she asked curiously; her brows furrowed with worry and confusion as she glanced down to the man in the black turtle neck; his face blank and totally blitzed as he stared off into the empty street.
"We were playing pool and having a few drinks and I don't know what happened. I hadn't even realized how hammered he was getting until it was too late," he paused to sigh, looking down at his feet before his gaze met with Emilia's again. "He started shouting at everyone and grabbing our pool cues demanding that he get to play. We tried to keep him quiet but more people started noticing and some took out their phones and started filming. The bar owner came over and told us we had to get him outside and he left willingly at first but soon after he stormed back inside with more shouts and threats and that's when they threw him out. I really tried. I'm sorry."
She nodded to the tall, lanky gentleman, mouthing a silent thank you as the crowd around them began to disperse. She knelt next to her best friend; her black coat sweeping the ground as her arm went to rest across his shoulder. "Hey you," she whispered.
His dazed eyes met hers and he smiled. He looked sad, angry even but definitely sad and it concerned her. She's never seen him like this in public and wondered what could have caused him to drink himself into this messed up state.
"Emilia," he whispered, his hand coming up to cup her cheek lightly.
"I'm going to take you home now. Can you walk?" she asked, looking around for assistance just in case he couldn't.
She stood up quickly, allowing Scott to take his arm and help him stand before he had a chance to answer. He wobbled a bit but seemed to be clear-headed enough as they made their way over to her car. His friend placed him in the passenger seat and Kit's head lulled back against the soft welcoming material, his eyes drifting shut instantly.
She turned to the man again, thanking him and shaking his hand before making her way to her own side of the car.
They drove for nearly ten minutes in silence before she saw his head come up and his body straighten tensely. She glanced over as he stared in front of him, his eyes heavy and confused as his mind tried to come to terms with his new location and her sudden presence.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly.
"Stop the car," he replied abruptly.
"What?"
"Stop the bloody car," he ordered a bit firmly.
She pulled over to the side of the road and before she even came to a proper stop, the passenger door flew open and Kit jolted from his seat; his legs not taking him very far before he was on his hands and knees on the ground, his head dropping between his shoulders as he heaved and gagged.
She raced from the vehicle, slamming the door shut to stand next to him; a comforting hand between his shoulder blades as she watched him throw up the contents of his stomach.
"That's it. Get it all out," she coached as her hand made lazy strokes up and down his spine.
When he had retched the last of the burning liquid, he rolled over onto his back; his body sprawled out on the pavement before he sat up, his arms reaching behind him to support and steady himself. He was breathing heavily and unevenly as he looked up at her; his eyes watery and red from all the hurling he did.
"Feeling a little better?" she asked quietly.
He nodded, his eyes still hooded and dazed but a smile managed to stretch his lips as he watched her.
The cool wind danced around them causing her to shiver slightly, her hands wrapped around her torso as she hugged herself. Her eyes became soft and slight as she asked, "What happened? Why didn't I know you were in New York?"
His gaze switched from panic to mild confusion and then to a sudden burst of sadness, "I... I don't know," he whispered back. "I wanted to tell you but I can't remember why I didn't," his speech thick and stained with liquor still; his brows knitted together in pure reflection.
A tight smile graced her lips as she offered him her hand, the air around them beginning to smell of vomit and liquor. "That's okay. Let's go," she said finally.
He grabbed at her hand, pulling himself to his feet as he stumbled slightly and fell into her. The air from her lungs being knocked out, the breath leaving her body harshly with the sudden impact of the collision. He was flush up against her; bodies toe to toe and nose to nose. He exhaled heavily, his alcohol infused breath brushing against her flushed face.
He scanned the features before him, his hand coming up to trace a single finger across her cheek, "You're sad," he whispered.
Her mouth gaped like a fish out of water, finding it hard to focus or even find the coherent words to counter his claim, "I'm... I'm fine," she stammered.
His gaze flickered to hers before studying her again, "You're not. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for making you sad but I'm sad too. We're both sad and I can't fix it. How do I stop making you sad?" he rushed clumsily.
"Don't worry about me. I just wished you'd told me you were here. Maybe I could have stopped this," she said as she grabbed at the hand that was caressing and running up and down the side of her face. She took a step back from him, allowing a few inches between them.
His hand opened, cupping her face like it did earlier and she covered it with her own.
"Why are you sad?" she asked. This time her eyes raking over his features for any sign of the answer but he allowed her none. Taking away his hand suddenly while his face stayed marred with panic and worry; his eyes getting shifty and wild. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me," she whispered.
She looked over his shoulder to see a sign just behind him marked Gramercy Park. She hadn't even taken note of their location; hadn't even realized that they had been here before a few years ago. She looked back to his face, his gaze now lowered to his black boots.
"We should get going. I'll take you to my hotel and you can call a cab and head home in the morning," she said as she ushered him back towards the vehicle; her arm wrapped around his waist to steady his swaying body. He looked over at her while they walked, his gaze fixated on her short blonde hair.
She got him settled into the passenger seat before taking her own and putting the car in motion again. She jammed the key into the ignition before she heard him say, "I don't want to marry her."
It was barely audible; barely above a whisper but she heard him. Her head whipping around to see his face turned towards the window. Her eyes wide and full of questions as she sought his own but his head never came to her; he never so much as glance in her direction or say anything else and she allowed him that silence. She allowed him to breathe and collect himself slowly from the drunken fog that surrounded him. The liquor had loosened him up. It had gotten him to the point of revealing the truth to her and she wasn't sure what to make of it but she'd be gentle still; she'd be gentle and patient for as long as he needed.
She had to physically shake herself from her thoughts and focus her attention on getting them back to her hotel. She turned the key and the engine roared and purred in the otherwise lonely streets of New York City as she pulled away from the concrete structure of the sidewalk and turned back on to the roadway; her eyes set on the lines in front of her but her gaze drifting every now and then to the sleeping man next to her.
They got back to her place in one piece, her body slightly wracked from having to basically drag her best friend through the lobby and into the elevator. Luckily there wasn't much stirring at this hour of the night and she only had to interact with the receptionist at the front desk; offering him a slight nod as his curious gaze followed after them.
"I love your hair like this," he mumbled through the slits of his closing eyes. "I love your dark hair but this blonde thing does really compliment you," he said animatedly as they entered her room; his arm draped over her shoulder and her own arm wrapped around his torso for added support.
She shut the door with her foot, switching on the lights and carrying him to her bedroom as he babbled and murmured about her hair and how much he loved it this way. She thought she was mistaken at first but she felt a warmth spread across her face; a warmth that came with a weird smile, causing her cheeks to hurt from the tension.
She sat him down on the edge of her bed as she pulled away but not before he grabbed at her wrist, pulling her closer to him; pulling her between his legs. She stood awkwardly as he reached up to play with a few strands of the blonde locks he was going on about; her stance rigid, her eyes refusing to meet his, looking anywhere but at him.
He hummed in contentment; the sound vibrating in his throat as he spoke, "So soft. I knew it would be soft," he concluded while he rubbed them slowly between his thumb and index finger.
Her eyes snapped up to meet him then, noticing the way his gaze lingered softly on her face and a charming smile moved devilishly over his lips. It was too much. Her breath was coming in heavy and she had to swallow hard against her very dry throat to regain her ability to speak. "Kit, what are you saying?" she asked as she tried to remind herself that he was drunk. He wasn't exactly in his right mind right now so all of this had to mean nothing. She reached for his hand, slowly pulling it away from her hair as she took a step back from him; clearing her throat loudly.
He watched her, wide eyed and completely lost to her sudden withdrawal from him, questioning himself whether he had done something to offend her.
"Okay, I'm going to need you to take off your shoes and your clothes and get in bed - just your shirt though. Definitely just your shirt. I'll go get you some water and you can get some rest then. Just... don't be naked when I get back okay?" she babbled shakily as she turned to exit the room, allowing the existing tension to dissipate into nothing while she was away.
She later found herself bracing her hands against the refrigerator, her head lowered and her mind willing herself to catch her breath and steady her trembling limbs. What was happening to her? What was he doing? Why was he having this powerful effect on her all of a sudden? She was feeling nervous and self conscious which had never happened before, especially not around him, not in all the years of knowing him. Sure, she had a crush once before but that was so long ago. She had put that behind her. She had dated and loved extensively since then. Now, he was engaged and he had graduated to being her very best friend but things were beginning to feel out of sorts and messy in just one night.
She had taken his caresses and soft displays of affections as mere intoxicated slips but had to wonder if there was more to what he was doing; to what he was saying and making her feel.
He's drunk Emilia! He doesn't know what he's doing! God, pull yourself together!
She returned to the room moments later carrying a glass of water only to find a sleeping Kit sprawled on his back, shirtless but with his boots still on. She sighed to herself before walking over to the unconscious man; tapping him on the shoulder lightly. When that didn't get him to stir, she gripped a bit harder, pulling him abruptly from his restful state.
"Here," she said as she handed him the glass as he sat up.
She knelt before him, undoing the laces of his boots as he sat sipping on the water and watching her peculiarly.
"You're such a good friend," he announced and her hands ceased momentarily and her gaze met his with a small laugh.
"Well, you'd do the same for me so..." she trailed off as she continued to work at one of his boots.
He looked down at her as he drank, "And I have."
"And you have," she affirmed, thinking of all the times she's had too much to drink and how he'd taken care of her just the same.
"Why do we keep saving each other?" he asked softly, feeling her tugging the boot from his leg.
"Cause that's what friends do darling," she strained as the boot finally came loose and fell to the floor with a loud thud.
"Is that all I am to you? Your friend?" he asked, the lingering alcohol removing all filter from his mind and tongue causing the words to slip out without a second thought.
She doesn't look up at him but instead begins working on removing the second boot from his foot, "You're my best friend."
"That's not what I meant," he rushed.
"Kit. Don't. You're drunk and you need to get some rest before..." she began irritably.
"Before what?" he paused as she pulled the boot from his foot and rose to face him on the bed. Her face red and eyes fiery. "You're so pretty when you're angry," he swooned.
"Ugh. Shut up Harington," she exasperated as her eyes fell to his jeans, noticing a few spots of dried vomit. "You need to take off your pants," she instructed faintly.
He quickly began undoing his belt and tugging at the buttons of his pants before pushing them down his thighs, revealing a tight pair of boxer shorts below. He could only get them to the spot above his knees before he began struggling, nearly tumbling over head first as he tried to remove the rest of the tight denim.
She chuckled lightly at his efforts before brush his hands away and taking charge. With a bit more force, she pulled at the pants, pulling them to his ankles as he gripped at the edge of the bed to avoid himself from falling to the floor. She continued to wrestle with the item until he was free, falling back into the bed with a loud grunt before lifting his head to look at the woman. She was busy removing her coat and throwing it over the back of a nearby chair to even notice his eyes on her.
"Get some rest. I'll be in the living room if you need me," she said as she dimmed the lamp on the bedside table and made her way towards the door.
"No," he said.
"No?"
"No. Come here. Stay with me," he ordered, stretching his hand for her to take it as he lifted his head from the bed; his body still horizontally sprawled above the covers.
She stood there staring at him for a few seconds before she hesitantly made her way towards him; watching as he adjusted himself, pulling his entire body up to sit in the middle. She sat and swung her legs up, bringing herself against the plush headboard of the King sized substructure. She watched as he pulled the covers back, lowering himself below it, his head falling into her lap with a heavy, burdened sigh. He stared up at the ceiling questioningly before his eyes drifted shut. She surprised herself when her own hand went to brush over his forehead and into his hair repeatedly, wanting to provide some level of comfort for him while he slept. He sighed again at the feel of her hand on him, his chest rising and falling slowly.
"How do I fix this Em? How do I stop this wedding from happening?" he whispered into the silence.
Her hand froze mid-stroke before it continued, noticing that his eyes were now open, staring into the space above him. She could tell that there were still traces of liquor, not enough for him to be completely drunk, but enough for him to be honest with himself; just enough for the filter to be removed.
"I don't know. I don't know what to tell you," she said softly.
"Come on Em, help me out here. I don't know what to do anymore," he pleaded shakily, his eyes welling up with tears.
There's a panic that began to swim through her causing her hand to shake as she caressed his hair and her heart to hammer in her chest as she spoke, "Why don't you want to marry her anymore?"
He paused, trying to find the answer for himself before saying it out loud, "I don't know," he sighed. "It just doesn't feel right."
"Then why did you propose in the first place?"
A single tear met the corner of his eye before spilling over, rolling down his face and disappearing into his hair, "I asked myself that question so often, more often than I want to admit but it just felt like the natural next step for us at the time," he paused. "But now..."
"But now what? What changed?"
His gaze shifted to look up at her and her breath caught. He stared with his mouth falling open as he struggled to say something that needed to be free; something that wanted to come out so badly but not enough alcohol was in his system to allow it to pass. "She's not..." he started before pulling back and glancing back towards the ceiling all too quickly.
She gulped before her mind tried to decipher his words; wondering what he meant or what he wanted to say to her before he stopped himself.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked, pulling her from her thought.
"I'm not thinking about anything," she replied, her hand continuing to comfort him; her eyes trained on its slow movements.
"You are," he eased off the bed, one arm supporting his weight as he used is other to trace light strokes across her forehead with his fingertips. That caught her off guard, her eyes wide with panic and her mouth falling open wordlessly.
"You get thinking lines here and here when you're really inside your head about something. What is it?" he asked curiously.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she stuttered.
He pulled his hand away, a smirk crossing his features as he studied her carefully. His brow raised in contemplation as he strung the pieces of her reaction together; fitting the puzzle mechanically.
He scooted his body closer to hers, his face only a few inches away. She was feeling mighty uneasy with the small distance as he inched closer and closer as he spoke. It was a strange feeling to experience around him; a mixture of excitement and anticipation with a slight fear and panic that swirled in the pit of her stomach. She pressed her back into the headboard as far as she could but it was no use, he was intent on proving a point tonight and there was no way around it.
She should move. She should just get up and flee the room as quickly as possible. Make her escape before it was too late. She swallowed hard before she spoke, "Kit," she breathed.
"What?"
"You're too close," she groaned.
"I am?" his breath caressing her face, causing her breathing to become uneven and heavy.
"Yes, you are," she whispered as he inched closer; his lips nearly brushing hers now.
She shifted uncomfortably in front of him, her gaze dropping momentarily to where his fingers sprawled on the mattress between them. Her forehead brushing against his chin in a tender contact.
"Em," he whispered again. "Look at me."
"Kit, stop this. Please." she whimpered without meeting his gaze.
"Em," he called again.
She did look up then, hesitantly at first but then her stare blatant and piercing as she challenged his own; her gaze flickering from one dark pupil to the next.
He let out a dry laugh. A laugh that chilled her; One that was filled with pure mischief and power. He knew the effect he was having on her and he played with it; toyed with it like a cat with its defenseless prey; laughing at her struggles and futile attempts of control.
"If we're just friends, this should be no problem for you Em. You could get up and run. You could slap me. You could laugh this off but this isn't a laughing matter anymore is it? There are no jokes here. No, not anymore. There's something deeper here. Something dark and urgent. Something much more than this friendship you speak of," he taunted with a serious look on his face. His eyes worn and tired from his night, almost like they could close at any minute now.
"Kit, what are you saying?"
"I'm saying, I want to kiss you right now and something tells me you want me to, really badly," he whispered as he ducked his head to brush his lips against hers quickly; a light unmistakable touch that made her gasp and tremble before he pulled away but just enough to look at her face.
Her eyes were wide and her mouth agape with heavy, hot air. She caught herself and tried to get into a defensive mindset. Willing her heart to be still so she could speak without fear or hesitation; willing her voice to be steady and assertive. "No, I don't," she said but her front was futile; her voice cracked and quivered as he leaned in again, brushing their lips together with more purpose and force and she groaned. It was a small sound, a small sound that could be mistaken for anything or so she tried to convince herself.
"You don't what?" he said hoarsely as his eyes took in her lips; plump crimson things that made his hunger churn.
"I don't want you to kiss me," she said with more poise but still not believable enough for him to back off.
His tongue darted out to wet his lips and he leaned in again, this time watching as her mouth slightly parted expectantly.
"Stop lying," he ordered softly.
"God, what are you trying to do here Kit?" she moaned before her eyes closed and she swayed forward, bumping their nose together and leaning her forehead against his.
He tilted his head slightly, nipping at her lips and she whimpered and trembled, a hand coming up to brace against his bare shoulder.
She pushed forward, meshing their lips together roughly and he opened his mouth immediately to accept her kiss. She released a small moan when his tongue quickly claimed her. He swept it passionately through her mouth and over her tongue and she clutched at his skin tightly before his hand went to comb through the side of her hair and cup the back of head, pulling her desperately into the kiss. She welcomed him fully, her mouth sucking on his tongue lightly; her teeth grazing over his lips possessively but then he pulled away.
His eyes watching her with darkness and lust, taking in the way she chased after his retreating frame and breathed heavilywith eyes still closed. It made him smile that she had given in; that she had stopped fighting and allowed herself to feel.
"I told you you wanted to kiss me," he said cheerfully before his head slowly drifted back down to her lap; his eyes tightly shut and his breathing still harsh from the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
"I fucking hate you Harington," she sighed.
He chuckled lightly before answering, "No, you don't."
The laugh slowly faded into a small smile as the exhaustion of the day began setting in. He drifted into a deep sleep quite quickly, his breathing evening out as she watched him below her. She sat there alone in total shock and complete mortification at what just happened; her mind racing and her pulse still jolting as she thought about the events. Her lip still tingling with the feel of him as she replayed the sordid kiss; the moment of weakness that she allowed herself.
It wasn't long before sleep came for her too; her body sliding down and resting next to him till she got up for her flight a few hours later. She did her best not to wake him and to her surprise she was successful.
He finally woke when she was long gone. When the morning was bright and the world was turning. He felt for the space next to him, realizing that it was empty and cold before he lifted his head from the mattress, examining the now still room. He sat up quickly looking around in the darkness; the blinds at the window still drawn.
The events of the previous night foggy and hazed but just enough for him to recall small portions. He scanned the room, just now realizing how nice it really was; just now coming to terms with the fact that his best friend had taken him home to make sure he was okay. His eyes came upon a note that sat on the bedside table next to him, one that she had clearly written.
I Hope you slept well. I have an early flight so I had to leave.
Paid for the room for an extra day so you could sleep in a little later.
I know you need it and you're welcome :) I'll see you in LA in a few hours.
- Emilia <3
He smiled down at the note, reading and rereading it before he set the bedside alarm for two hours from now. His body collapsed into the sheets that smelled of her, making him sigh contentedly as he took it in. He couldn't wait to get to LA, he could hardly deny it anymore. His eyes lulled close as the tiredness took him. His final waking consciousness filled with thoughts of his best friend.